SilverShadow Believer
by Hell's Sweet Whispers
Summary: Draco doesn't want to think about what happened before Christmas break but Harry won't let him forget.  Written for HP-Intoxicated on LiveJournal


_Silver-Shadow Believer_

I pick at the toast on my plate, pretending I can't feel the gaze on me. A year ago I would be preening in the attention. After months of being ignored it is unsettling. I peer out from under my bangs, instantly meeting vibrant green eyes. I raise my head to sneer at the Boy Who Lived. He looks away quickly, blushing lightly.

My stomach churns as the memories from a night a couple of weeks ago surfaces. I shove my breakfast away in disgust. I don't want to remember what happened and _he_ certainly doesn't want to! I stand up from the bench, collecting my books from the table. I walk out of the Great Hall, keeping my head high. Potter's gaze bores into my back the whole way out.

I don't have a class first period so I retreat to the library. A week ago I would have made my way outside. There's a large oak tree nestled on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest and has a great view of the lake. I spent much of my free time hanging out there with Pansy, Vincent and Greg. They're all gone now and the happy, warm memories that lingered are tainted.

I move to the back of the library, settling down at a desk far from the others. I pull my wand out, silently casting a Notice-Me Not charm. Out of all of the returning eighth years, I'm the only Slythrin. I'm ostracized by teachers and students alike. Even my younger housemates want nothing to do with me. They direct their sadness and anger at me because I'm the nearest target. They blame me for the war.

After the war, the Malfoys had been destroyed. We were made into an example, a warning to all Death Eaters and old, wealthy pureblood families when the Ministry made us out to be the Dark Lord's right hands. Over the summer, everything I knew and loved was taken from me 'til all I had left was Hogwarts.

Shifting through my books, I pull out a worn out potions book. My lack of social life leaves a lot of time for reading. I've even finished most of my books for class. I suspect that I know more than Granger at the moment. I flip through the pages, fondly reading the notes in the margin. It was Severus's. I had taken it from him before the war had turned everything upside down.

Severus had been like a second father to me. When I wasn't trying to be like Lucius I wanted to be like Snape. I even had a secret fantasy about opening my own apocrathy or teach at Hogwarts. That's all a distant dream now. I'm not welcome in the wizarding community. I shiver at the thought of what was waiting for me when these stone walls no longer protected me.

I'm startled out my thoughts by the loud thump of books hitting the table next to me. I peer up from my book to see the Golden Trio sitting down. I silently hope that my spell is strong enough. I've been avoiding them since before Christmas break. If I saw them I'd remember what happened that night before vacation started.

The day before vacation began there was a party in the eighth years' common room to kick off the holiday season. Only eighth years were allowed to attend. All except me. I knew about it of course. I'd overheard Longbottom and Finnegan discussing the party plans in the hallway one morning. But the minute I'd walked around the corner, Finnegan had given me a tight-lipped glare and nudged Longbottom in the ribs to shut him up. Nothing more had been said about it when I was there to hear.

I'd made sure to vacate the premise the night of the party, opting to sit under the tree and think about better days. When I had decided to go back inside I'd found Potter tied up at the entrance. Somehow he'd managed to talk me into untying him. In fact he had been downright Slythrin about it! When I'd untied him Harry had pounced on me, apparating us into an unused bedroom.

Then launched the night I _never_ want to remember.

"Harry?" Granger says, bringing my attention as well as Potter to her. He'd been looking at my table. Had he seen me? No, that wasn't possible. He might think he's seen someone here but the spell would just make it seem like his eyes were playing tricks on him.

"Yeah?" he answers, drumming his finger against the table.

"Are you okay?" she asks, worry evident in her voice and the way her eyes softened. I turn back to my open books. I don't care if the Golden Boy isn't feeling well!

"Yeah, why?" he answers absently. I can't help but turn to see what has him so distracted. He is rummaging through the pile of books in the middle of their table. He misses the look exchanged by his two friends.

"Well, it's just you've been acting all weird since the party, mate," the Weasel says, picking a book up and holding it for Potter to see. Potter nods and Weasley hands it over.

"I told you guys, I'm fine," he says tightly. He reaches into his robe pocket, plucking out some parchment, ink and a quill. "Now can we just work on this Potions essay?" Granger and the Weasel let out long sighs that say they don't believe that Potter is 'fine' but are willing to let it go. They pick out their own books, and take out their own supplies.

Having lost interest in them I turn back to the books open on my table only to realize they aren't under the spell. They are visible to the world. I can't move them without drawing attention to myself. Especially with Granger there, she'd figure it out. I can't just remove the spell because even though the war is over I'd be accused of spying on them. Sighing, he settles in for a long and boring wait.

I'm not sure how long I've been sitting here. It could be an hour, ten minutes or a lifetime as far as I'm concerned. I've read every word on each of the open pages twice already and have been reduced to staring off into space. My legs are swinging under the table in an attempt to keep them from cramping. I fidget in the seat, my bottom numb from the hard wooden chair. I just want them to leave already!

"Harry, are you coming?" Granger asks. My head snaps up to see her standing a little ways off from the table, her books clutched close to her chest.

"I'll be there in a moment, just got to get something first," Potter answers. I watch, suspiciously, as Potter takes an extra long time to pack his books up. The moment Granger and the Weasel are out of sight he's out of his seat and moving into the chair across from me. "I know you're there Malfoy, I could hear you breathing."

I stay silent, hoping he's just buffing. "Come on Malfoy, you breathe like you just ran a mile."

"Potter, I breathe so quietly it's like I'm dead!" I snap, immediately regretting my choice of words. I remove the charm since it doesn't seem to matter.

"Listen, I just want to talk to you," Potter says, placing his forearms onto the table and leaning forward. He pins me down with those green eyes, dark with determination. A picture of those eyes on me darkened with lust pops up. I quickly reach for my books, starting to stack them up.

"No, you don't," I say. I curse my shaking fingers as the book I just placed on top of the pile tumbles off.

"I think you deserve an explanation," he says, picking up the fallen book. He holds it out to me and I snatch it away. His hand stays there, stretched out to me, before falling back to the table.

"I got my explanation," I say, standing up from the chair so quickly it falls over. "The Weasel told me when he walked in on us that morning!" I pick up my pile, clutching them to my chest like a safety net, and stalk out of the library.

"Draco, wait!" Potter calls, chasing after me. "There's more to it than that!"

"No, there really isn't! You were slipped an aphrodisiac and tied up. I just happened upon you and I was stupid enough to untie you. I hope you know _that_ will never happen again!" I say, irritated. Why couldn't he just take a hint?

"But it really isn't just that," Potter insists.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot to mention you shoved your giant cock up my ass!" I growl. Potter falters, stumbling over his feet. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his face pale then turn so red he resembles a tomato…or a Weasley. Regaining his composer, Potter grabs my forearm, stopping me. He gives it a hard yank, spinning me around to face him. He pushes me back until I'm trapped against the stone wall.

"You enjoyed it!" he hisses, pressing his body along mine. His leg slides between my thighs, rubbing my groin.

"Maybe," I shrug, holding back the moan that threatens to escape. I am not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing I really did enjoy it. "But it was just sex, Potter!" I bring my hands up, spilling my books in the process, to his chest and push him away. Hurt flickers through his face. This should be the point where I take advantage of his pain and storm away. He would be too lost in his feelings to follow me. Instead I stand my ground, waiting for him to compose himself.

"I thought that too," Potter finally sighs, running a hand through his bird-nest hair. He holds my gaze and shifts uneasily on his feet but he doesn't try to come any closer.

"No, that's what you _think,_ because that's what it _was,_" I ensure him. I'm not going to let Harry try and trick me with his nice words like he did that night. I rather be ignored then given hope and that's what Potter kept doing. It really was just sex but it was the first time someone had touched me in a way that wasn't meant to be harmful in months. I admit I was a little starved for it but I wasn't going to let my guard down again. So what's keeping me here?

"It was then, but I couldn't get it out of my mind. I couldn't get _you _out of my mind. I thought about you over the entire break, I think the Weaslys were getting tired with my bleak mood. I realized something though, well, Hermione pointed it out. I've always been obsessed with you."

"That's what I've always wanted the Boy Who Lived Twice, stalking me!" I say, batting my eyelashes in an over-exaggerated manner. "That's just plain creepy, Potty."

"I know but I want a second chance!" Potter pleas, taking that step towards me.

"Second chance at what?" I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Draco Malfoy, will you be my friend?" He says his voice is breathless and wobbly. He holds his hand out to me. The irony isn't lost on me. It's like all those years ago when I held out my hand for him to take.

"You just want to get in my pants again," I say, raising an eyebrow. Potter blushes. I'm tempted to reject him like he rejected me all those years again. Perhaps that's why I'm still standing here. But I'm so very lonely; a friend would be nice even if it _is_ Potter. Or because it's Potter. I've wanted this friendship since I was little, reading story books about the Boy Who Lived. Here it is, my chance, but I can't overlook everything that has happened between us. All the hatred, all the fighting and pain.

'_He really has to want this for it to work,' _I think, looking into pleading green eyes. His lips twitched as he bites down on it. He's nervous for my answer. I really have to want this too, I realize. Friendship is a two way street. "You'll have to work for it because I don't trust you at all," I say, slipping my hand in his. I grip his hand in death grip, grinding his bones together. "If you fuck with me again, I _will_ hurt you, do you understand?"

Potter nods and I release his hand. "You can start by carrying my books," I say gesturing to the mess on the floor. I'm surprised to see the smile that lights up Potter's face.

"If you help me pick them up?" He bargains, crouching down and reaching for the nearest book.

"I suppose," I sniff but kneel down anyway. It's not going to be easy; I know that, he knows that. At first it'll be a tentative friendship 'til we work past the last seven years and learn how to trust one another. After that who knows, maybe I'll let him into my pants again.


End file.
